


Snaccident

by LaLimonata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Knitting, Romance, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Time Travel, home economics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLimonata/pseuds/LaLimonata
Summary: Hermione, Harry and Ron are thrown back in time to meet an eccentric Dumbledore and a charming Tom Riddle. Shenanigans ensue.SATURDAY UPDATES!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 20
Kudos: 126
Collections: May I Slytherin?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this teaser trailer for a lighthearted comedy fic!

Harry and Ron were crushed into a tiny, dark space, when their view was suddenly filled with Hermione. They pulled her in shushing her as they heard footsteps outside. As they faded, she whispered, “You do realise this is a Vanishing Cabinet?”

“Really?” Ron said.

“What’s a vanishing cabinet?” Harry said, annoyed. They had discovered a room full of random, mostly broken objects when they were exploring the Room of Requirement. For once they had convinced Hermione to think of something other than studying and play sardines with them. It was nice, he admitted, to not have to worry about homework or the DA or detention. He heard Hermione explain through gritted teeth that a vanishing cabinet was like a portal between two places that was activated by a spell.

“If it’s activated by a spell, then it’s fine for us to be in here,” Ron said smugly.

“It’s still incredibly irresponsible,” Hermione said shrilly, before being hushed by her companions. Or they attempted to shush her by covering her mouth with their hands, but it was dark and cramped. She felt one hand on her back, patting her, which she was sure was Harry’s. He was the thinnest and almost as short as she was. Ron, she thought, was in behind her to her right. What she hoped was his hand landed on her collarbone, and as it shifted, coming dangerously close to her chest, she jerked back. She felt a tug on her neck.

She hissed at him, “I’d appreciate it Ronald, if you tried not to feel me up.”

Harry had never felt more aware of himself and his surroundings. Hermione’s arm was pressing into his chest, and he could feel Ron on one side and the cabinet on the other. He was starting to regret hiding in here. Ron was glad no one could see how his ears had turned crimson.

“What’s this?” he said, to change the subject, fiddling with the metal necklace in his hand, “A locket with a picture of you and Vicky?”

Hermione felt the blood rush from her face as she felt a familiar pull in her stomach, “Ron no!”

She closed her eyes, clutching Ron’s hand still clasped around her time turner and Harry’s jumper. She felt sick. They spun and twisted, a horrible combination of portkey and time travel and something else that ended with them crash landing face first onto a cold stone floor. Hermione was the first to come to her senses, being the most used to time travel - if she could call it that. She jumped up and drew her wand. The boys stood up shakily, holding each other for support, like new-born calves.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” Hermione said in a low and threatening tone, “I am going to cook you alive. And then I’m going to pull you apart and I’d feed you to Buckbeak, but he deserves so much better than you, you low tier trash weasel.”

Ron gulped, and stepped behind Harry to get away from the advancing demon that had taken Hermione’s place. Harry put his hands up in a gesture of peace, laughing nervously.

“Well, to be fair to Ron, Hermione, you did have that time turner illegally since third year…”

She blustered, her face reddening, “That’s completely beside the point! Who decides to play sardines and hide in a broken Vanishing Cabinet?”

“Well how was I supposed to know!”

“And as you said, it’s broken,” Ron offered, poking his head out from behind his friend’s shoulder, before hastily hiding again and closing his eyes. Hermione screamed in frustration. It seemed to Harry that she was breathing fire. He wondered how useful that would be in a fight against Voldemort before ducking down as he realised Hermione had literally set the ground around her on fire.

“She looks like that muggle fire thing,” Ron whispered, awed. The devil, Harry wondered. He had seen a book on muggle religions at the Burrow, so he supposed it was possible. It probably was not the best time to theorise about exactly what Ron was talking about as it dawned on him that there was quite a crowd around them. Secondly, he noted that Hermione herself was starting to catch fire.

“Um, Hermione,” he ventured.

“What Harry?” she demanded, turning her glowing eyes onto him. He had one scary best friend. He pointed his wand at her, spouting a pathetic trickle of water to help the fire near her feet.

“Um, your robes, they’ve um, caught fire?”

She rolled her eyes as the trickle of water ended two feet from her.

“Step aside, Harry.” Hermione began to fire jinxes towards Ron.

“That’s quite enough,” a familiar voice thundered behind her. Hermione jumped and dropped the time turner where it smashed on the stone floor. The trio stared at each other horrified. The flames went out in a puff of smoke and Hermione suddenly realised where they were: the great hall. She whirled around and backed into Harry and Ron. The three of them gaped at Dumbledore, livid, glorious and most bizarrely ginger.

“Oh no,” she breathed before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter! Hope you guys like it :)
> 
> Saturday updates btw xxxx  
> Love all the kudos and comments <3  
> stay safe stay home

She woke up in a hospital bed, with Harry and Ron sitting next to her, deathly pale. They’d been given blankets and hot cocoa for shock. The hospital wing was how she remembered but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. Like the style of the beds, or the position of the potion cabinet. Then it clicked.

“Oh my god,” she whispered hysterically, “We’ve gone back in time. And we can’t get back, the time turner-”

“-smashed.” Harry added.

Ron just nodded.

“What are we going to do!”

Her face was in her hands with Harry absentmindedly patting her head, while Ron stared into his cup. He was sure it held the future, if only he could remember his divination lessons.

“You can start,” a familiar voice said, “by explaining who you are and how you got here.”

Ron jumped, spilling boiling hot cocoa on himself and Harry, spluttering, “D-D-Dumbledore.” Harry and Hermione paled to Ron’s normally pasty shade; Ron turned a peculiar sort of green. Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed in long pink robes with sparkling unicorns on, that offset his hair brilliantly. He raised one thick orange eyebrow suspiciously and placed his hands on his hips.

“So, you know of me?”

“Who doesn’t know of the great Professor Dumbledore in this day and age?” Hermione smiled at him tremulously. Dumbledore studied her anxious face.

“Professor, what year is it?” 

Harry received a punch for his trouble and a hissing from Hermione telling him to shut up. Dumbledore raised his other eyebrow in surprise, and took a chocolate bar out from his pocket, munching on it thoughtfully.

“Is that a Pondering Pistachio bar?” Ron exclaimed, “What? They haven’t been sold in Britain for over thirty years,” he added, as his friends groaned. Somehow, Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised even higher.

“Oh, bollocks.”

“Well that is a shame, after lemon sherbets, these are my favourite to eat while thinking, I suspect,” he said, “that you three are distant relatives of mine from the Caribbean.” He winked at them. Hermione relaxed her shoulders, nodding violently.

“Yes, um, Harry and I are siblings, Hermione and Harry Evans. And this our cousin,”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley?” Dumbledore offered disapprovingly.

“Um, Hermione called me that because my real name is Westbury but-”

“-sometimes we call him Weasel, he was turned into a weasel once,” Harry invented wildly, thinking of ferrets.

“Hey!” Hermione gave Ron a meaningful look to silence him.

“So, this story begins to hang together. I’m glad that necklace your family gave you in case you needed help activated when you needed it to. I’m sorry to see it destroyed, fine craftsmanship. There have been reports of a terrible hurricane in the area. Well, let me talk to Headmaster Dippet and get you sorted.” The younger Dumbledore left in a twirl of robes, leaving behind a plume of smoke where he was standing.

“Y’know, I think he got less eccentric with age.”

Harry and Hermione nodded their agreement. The trio fell into silence, none wanting to discuss the possibility that they had lost their families and friends and would have to adapt to a new life. Silently, Hermione enlarged the bed and the boys joined her under the covers where they fell asleep.

Dumbledore sat opposite the current headmaster, waiting for his reply on the acceptance of three new students. He had always disliked Dippet’s decorating style, it was very austere, very traditional, all shades of beige and very tidy. Dumbledore’s own office was a chaos in comparison, a hundred tinkling shiny measuring instruments, several bowls of sweets to offer students, mismatching plush armchairs gathered around a desk holding a small drinks tray. He suspected that Dippet hated his office which is why meetings were always held here. The younger man was grateful at least that he could decorate Gryffindor as he chose although Dippet wouldn’t allow some of his more outrageous ideas like a series of obstacles to reach the portrait hole at breakfast time. There was nothing like a small challenge to wake one up in the morning.

“I wasn’t aware you had family on the Caribbean isles,” Dippet said after a while.

“Hmm? Yes, well one of my great great uncles was very taken by pirates and swashbuckling adventures. He left home when he was 16 and we never heard from him again. He had a family heirloom though, a necklace that took you to the most responsible family member if you were in trouble.”

“Quite, quite,” Dippet said, looking slightly alarmed. He was not surprised by a pirate in his employee’s family, but that Dumbledore was the most responsible? He dreaded the trouble the new students would cause, though he supposed Dumbledore was the Head of Gryffindor for a reason.

“Highly irregular. Well, at least it’s still September. Get them uniforms and equipment, will they need funds? Send them up and gather the Heads so we can get them sorted into classes.” Dippet set about gathering paperwork to enrol the new students and sending several portraits off to gather the required members of staff. Dumbledore took his leave to collect the newest members of his family.

He found the trio deeply asleep, the curly haired girl on the left, her brother in the middle being spooned by the ginger boy who reminded him rather a lot of Septimus Weasley. If these children truly were from the future as he suspected, then Ronald may in fact be his son or some other form of relative. He had the trademark red hair and freckles, as well as being a lot taller than the other two. The girl did not remind him of anyone with her dark skin and curly hair, a muggleborn then? Unless she was a foreign pureblood relative. The middle child had an interesting scar under his messy curls. He had light brown skin, but Albus recalled seeing green eyes under his glasses. Curious.

Under the pretence of ensuring they had no dangerous items with them, the professor briefly checked their possessions. The girl appeared to have the contents of a small stationery store as well as a still picture of a dark-skinned couple in a locket who he presumed to be her parents, two books, a small first aid kit, and some money. He chuckled. The shorter boy had a mirror shard, scraps of parchment, a quill, a pouch of gold and a moving photo of his parents. His father looked quite a lot like Fleamont Potter to Dumbledore’s mind, but he had never seen the girl before. She looked mixed race but with auburn hair and green eyes. Well, Dumbledore thought, the three of them did look like part of his family, red hair was a common trait. It was also plausible that they came from the Caribbean. Pleased, he moved onto the other boy. He found two squashed muffins, a single galleon, some rather amusing doodles of professors, including an older version of himself, a crumpled letter from his mother, as well as other notes from siblings, and what appeared to be divination homework.

Amused, he replaced everything where he found it and gently shook the trio awake. The ginger hugged the brown boy tighter, “Another five minutes.”

The girl shot up, “Oh my god, it wasn’t a dream. What are we going to do!”

“Mione,” Ron groaned.

“Here, drink some water,” Dumbledore offered kindly, trying to calm her hysterics, “You’ve only been asleep for an hour or so. I’m sure you needed the rest. But I need you to get up, so we can sort you into houses.”

“Yes houses, what if we’re not in Gryffindor again? What if we’re split up? Oh my god, I worked so hard on extra credit,” she moaned.

Harry detangled himself from Ron, and gladly took the glass of water Dumbledore offered.

“Don’t worry Hermione, you’re brilliant. You’ll catch up in no time.”

Sleepily Ron mumbled, “We’ve still got two years until NEWTs, no stress.”

“But – But – But we’ve got OWLs this year! How can you be so calm? What if they have changed the curriculum! I mean who knows how far back we’ve gone?” Hermione started gesturing wildly spilling water all over the boys. Harry quietly dried it, patting her on the shoulder with the other hand.

“My dear, it will be fine. I take it that you are fifth years then? As for the date, it is 17th September 1941.” 

Harry was the only who managed to nod in reply. The three of them were stunned by how far back in time they had travelled.

“Excellent, well I presume you are already familiar with the basics of the school. Do try to act like you’ve not been here before when you walk around. Of course, we will provide extra support for our new home-schooled students, if you catch my drift. On the matter of how you got here we shall remain silent; I think it imperative. If you follow me, I’ll take you to the Headmaster.”

“What about money?” Ron said, finally awake, “We don’t have anything but what’s on us. We can’t use that. And I doubt we’re going back,” he added darkly. Dumbledore beamed at him, as if the fact that the teenagers had lost their families was akin to winning the lottery.

“Ah, yes. I have told Headmaster Dippet that you are relatives of my great great uncle. He ran off to become a pirate. We don’t know what happened to him, but we do know he was not at all interested in having children. His mother despaired over this and thus burnt all the letters and evidence of him. She was quite heartbroken. Adopted a goat as a replacement, I think. In any case, my family had no young heirs until now, so you will become my wards,” he said, and Ron smiled back, a little weirded out. Harry imagined a goat wearing dress robes and sitting at the table, being served by a doting mother.

“We can make this work,” Hermione said, looking at Harry, who nodded absentmindedly, still wondering if the goat would have been taught to use a knife and fork. The trio got out of bed, returning it to its normal size before following the professor to the door. He looked them over before taking out his wand. Their clothes were a little odd, but nothing too out of order, just dirty. Wizarding fashion never changed much but muggle fashion clearly had. They were all wearing trousers of a peculiar blue fabric that he recognised as ‘jeans’ from the latest housewife magazines.

“Lauandium,” he enunciated. Their clothes all straightened out as if ironed and freshly laundered. Ron smiled; his mum must have done that spell on him a thousand times.

“There, now you’re ready to meet the staff. I suspect that you’ll be presented to the school at dinner, as its just after two.”

He led the teenagers out into the hall and through throngs of gossiping students. As they waited for the staircases to move Dumbledore made several remarks about paintings that they came across; this was a depiction of one of the early Wizengamots, fewer members back then. This lovely one of sunflowers was painted by Monet’s lesser known cousin, burned right off the family tree for not getting a real job. Hermione made several remarks of her own which led into a vivid conversation about the magic behind animating portraits.

“Well, Hermione, if you’re really so interested in art,” Dumbledore said as they reached the griffin that guarded Dippet’s office, “Legacy. Hmm what was I saying?”

“Art, sir.”

“Ah yes, thank you Harry. We do in fact have an art club you can join; it’s run by Professor Lovegood. He teaches Divination too, another fascinating subject in my opinion but we can discuss that another time.” The professor turned around to grin encouragingly at them before knocking smartly on the door.

As they entered the room, they were faced with three wizards and one witch sitting in a circle of hard chairs around the desk. The eldest of them rose to conjure more chairs for the newcomers. He had a short, tidy beard, unlike Dumbledore’s long one with various types of braiding and ribbon woven through it. The elderly wizard was pale but not frail looking, with a sensible looking build and some of the beigest robes any of them had seen. In fact, everything in the room was so much the same shade of beige that they did not see him at first, much like one would not notice a stick insect in a pile of dead forest debris. Once everyone was seated comfortably – after Dumbledore insisted on transfiguring his chair into an armchair – the meeting began.

“So,” Dippet said peering at them, “you two must be the Evanses and you must be Mr Westbury. Have I got that right? Good, good. Now just put down your date of birth and sign the form – you too please Albus, as their legal guardian.”

“Of course, of course.”

Dippet smiled, “Lets sort you first and then do classes after. I’m sure the Professors are each eager to claim you for their own houses.”

Harry felt slightly nauseated by the odd gleam in pot-bellied wizard’s eye but was immediately comforted by taking both Ron and Hermione’s hands. His lips twitched as Hermione gripped his fingers almost painfully, while Ron was stroking his hand with his thumb. His two best friends were entirely different from each other, he was amazed they got along so well – when they weren’t arguing.

Dippet took the Sorting Hat from its perch on a shelf and placed it on the immaculate desk. It grumbled about being awoken from its nap much too early and scowled at the trio.

“Who would like to go first? How about you Mr Westbury?” he said, lowering the hat onto Ron’s head.

You’ve done this before I see. Somehow some years ago and some years ahead. Nevertheless, you’re here now. No one to stand in your way, you could be the best now, carve out your own niche with a little more room to grow. No more siblings I see, the sixth son of the seventh son of the seventh son. Not bad. Not bad. I sense loyalty, but I sense strategy too. Not the smartest but not quite the bravest hmm? I say SLYTHERIN.

“Congratulations, Mr Westbury! Welcome to my house, you’ll be a fine addition I’m sure. I’m Professor Slughorn,” the pot-bellied man exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

“Ron,” Harry whispered, squeezing his hand, “Ron, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Harry.” Hermione looked at him worriedly, his voice was higher than normal, and he was very pale. “It’s just all a bit much isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, as the hat was placed on his head.

Hello. Ah hello, a speaker, interesting. Just like your brother you are, not quite from around here are you haha…. Well what do we have here, another proud little Gryffindor but – Put me in Slytherin, please. Bossy, aren’t we? Last time you wanted not to be in Slytherin but we both knew how great you’d be there. Well have your wish, SLYTHERIN.

Harry shuddered slightly as he watched his new Head of House’s nostril flare in excitement as he extended the same welcome to him.

“Two for two Horace, well done! Pity, I was sure they would have made excellent Gryffindors,” Dumbledore remarked. “Well I suppose the rest of us can try for Miss Evans.” He winked at her. She nodded weakly as the sorting hat was lowered onto her head.

Quite the overthinker aren’t we? Calm down girl, I won’t separate you. I can see you’ve been through a lot. But I know that I wanted to put you in Slytherin or Ravenclaw too last time. Very, very smart… Have to be the best, always having to prove yourself, yes, you remind me of another boy. Do I? What is he like? Is he still here? What if he’s better than me? Don’t worry you’ll be fine. Slytherin’s are a little cutthroat but they’re also like family, but what’s a family without a little blood feud? Hehe… Thank you. I don’t think I could do it without my family. My pleasure, now SLYTHERIN.

Dippet blinked, “Well, Horace, I’m sure these three youngsters will be fine additions to your house. Now about classes…” The rest of Dippet’s speech and the pleasantries exchanged by the Heads was a blur to the three of them. They were handed leaflets on different classes and career paths before being dismissed. Dumbledore and Slughorn ushered them down to the dungeons to see their new rooms and the common room, with the former’s assurances of having school supplies sent to them by morning and new things being ordered for them. They were bundled off into their own rooms and told they would be picked up at dinner time. After an hour of staring into space, Hermione got up and went into her boys’ room. 

“It’s all a bit hard to process, isn’t it?” she asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Harry.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe we went back over 50 years.”

Harry nodded, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“I can’t believe we’re in bloody Slytherin.”

More nodding. The trio lapsed into silence.

At length, someone knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a short witch, with black hair like Sirius’ and a sharp nose.

“Hello? I’m Cedrella Black, fifth year prefect. I’m here to escort you to dinner.”

The trio looked at each other, got up and followed her to the Great Hall. Occasionally they nodded or hummed at something she said, but it was hard to concentrate on her chatter when each step felt like a death knoll, each one bringing them further away from home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it!!! Thanks for the comments, hits and kudos <3

After a long, silent dinner, full of curious glances and chattering, not to mention their new “relative’s” constant smiles and twinkling blue eyes, Hermione lay in bed. Her room was practically bare, although not how she imagined the dungeons. The walls had beautiful green wallpaper depicting a forest, the floor was a cream carpet and her four-poster bed sat squarely in the middle. She had been informed that there were two girls in her year, already paired, two students to a room, so she would be sleeping by herself. She felt lonely without her books surrounding her and Crookshanks purring on the end of her bed. She even missed Parvati and Lavender gossiping late into the night. Her only possessions lay neatly on the bedside table, her clothes were folded on the chair. She stared at the canopy above her. The posts on her bed had snakes engraved on them, with pieces of fruit and fig leaves. She felt it was oddly biblical, and though she herself wasn’t religious, she felt as though she had committed an ultimate sin.

Travelling back in time for even a few hours was extremely dangerous – she questioned Dumbledore’s decision to even allow her to take extra classes, had she been a pawn in a grand scheme to save Sirius? It seemed outlandish for him to be able to plan that far ahead but she often felt he put on a kind of façade. He had barely looked at Harry all year, and though she knew Harry thought the world of him she couldn’t stand the way her best friend was sent back to a known abusive household every summer. She didn’t quite trust the young Dumbledore either, on the one hand he had no faults that they knew of, but on the other they didn’t know very much about him or Dumbledore’s past at all. She knew he defeated Grindelwald in 1945, but would that still happen? Had they changed the timeline irreversibly? She had read muggle theories on parallel timelines, the grandfather paradox and the butterfly effect, but she didn’t know quite enough. It was times like these that she wished Muggle Studies included science not just outdated muggle customs. She was sure it had a place within the wizarding world. It was so frustrating how magic was taken for granted by those born into the magical world.

If it was a parallel timeline, maybe they’d never make it back. She wasn’t sure if it was better to be in the wrong time where they would hopefully have an uneventful school year for once, or back in their own time, with their family and friends. She was glad at least that Voldemort wasn’t looming over their heads, but what about Grindelwald and World War II? And if they were stuck in this time, they had virtually no support, no connections beside Dumbledore – she had learned by now that the entire Wizarding World is based on nepotism – what classes were the best to take? She had read the leaflets they were given before bed and still had no idea. Her head hurt. She missed her parents, she wished she could write to them, they always knew what to say. She missed Professor McGonnagall supporting her and advising her on classes since first year. She was on her own now.

Grabbing her wand and her quilt, she snuck out to the boy’s room. 

“Blimey, ‘Mione, you could have knocked,” Ron said, holding his shirt to his chest. Hermione turned around to face the door.

“Sorry, I just – I – it’s so lonely in there, and I miss Crookshanks and –”

“Hey, don’t worry, you can sleep here tonight. I miss Hedwig too. Here, lets put the beds together.”

Harry wrapped his arm around her as she cast a spell to move the beds and join them together. The three of them got in under the covers. Harry blew out the candle.

“I’m scared,” she said into the dark. It seemed easier to say it without seeing their faces.

“Me too.” Harry had had a similar thought process to Hermione.

“Hey, guys,” he continued, “we can get through this. It will be difficult, but we have options. We should try to find a way home. But we should get used to it here, we might be stuck in the ‘40s forever. And hey, no more Umbridge!”

The other two cracked a smile.

“I hated that bitch.”

“Me too.”

“Hermione, language!” Ron gasped, imitating his mother, “Hey, no fair! Harry, she hit me with a pillow.”

Harry laughed.

“Harry! That doesn’t mean you can hit me with a bloody pillow too!”

Eventually the three of them fell asleep, hushing each other so a prefect wouldn’t investigate, and giggling all the same.


	4. Chapter 4

A sharp knock sounded on the door. Ron grumbled and turned over, causing Harry to scoot up to him to spoon him. Hermione moved up to at the loss of Harry’s warmth, mumbling something about a potions essay. The knock sounded again; this time the door opened. A tall figure with pale skin entered the dark room. 

“Westbury and Evans?” he said, pulling back the window curtains to let in a greenish light “I’m here to escort you to breakfast.” He frowned as he looked at the placement of the beds. A voice called him from outside.

“The Evans girl is not in her dorm, she’s not in the bathroom either.”

The tall boy’s frown deepened as he drew the curtain on the bed to discover three sleeping shapes. Hermione opened her eyes, blinking at the light. She entered panic mode, nudging Ron and Harry awake.

“I assume you must be Miss Evans,” the boy said, his eyes wandering over her. She blushed and pulled the bedspread tighter around her. This gorgeous stranger had found her in bed with two boys on their first day. 

“Five more minutes, ‘Mione. It’s a Saturday.” 

Harry signalled his agreement by burrowing his head deeper into Ron’s back and under the covers. The stranger curled his lip up in disgust.

“This is highly irregular; I’ll have to deduct ten points from Slytherin for finding you not in your dormitory and ten points for such despicable premarital conduct.”

At this Hermione was outraged, “I don’t see you deducting points from the boys. And besides they are my family, my only family now. Harry is my brother and Ron is my cousin.”

She said this as she managed to untangle herself from the bedsheets and Harry to face her accuser. He looked her over unimpressed as she pushed up the sleeves of the frilly nightie she’d been given. Harry sat up yawning. 

“You could be kissing cousins,” the boy smirked as Hermione pushed her tangled mass of hair back, “though I’m not sure I know anyone who would want to kiss you in this state.” 

Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say as Hermione drew her wand.

“I wouldn’t attack a prefect if I were you. It is the first day of your school career here. Besides Evans, I’m here to take the three of you to breakfast.”

Hermione scowled, sheathing her wand. The unlikely duo watched the two boys stumble out of bed to find out what the commotion was.

“Here are your glasses mate.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry smiled.

“Good morning, I’m your fifth-year prefect Tom Riddle. I’ll have to ask you to stop allowing Miss Evans to sleep here no matter how close your family is. I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you to breakfast.”

He left a cherry red Hermione and a pale Harry in his wake. 

“What an absolute cockroach,” Hermione said, turning to Harry, “Honestly, he – Harry? Harry are you okay?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost mate.”

“Tom Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort,” he whispered, rubbing his scar. The other two paled.

“We can’t let anything on, and besides he either hasn’t found the Chamber yet or hasn’t started any attacks. Which means-”

“Hagrid’s not been expelled yet,” Harry finished.

“Myrtle’s not dead,” Ron added, “Thank merlin, I always felt like I was being watched when I had a shower after what happened to you last year in the baths with her.” The boys shuddered.

“Maybe we can try and stop him before anything starts?” Hermione offered.

“We’ll have to lie low and collect information for a while though, blend in,” Ron said, “It’ll be frustrating, but we can’t just charge in and kill him.”

“Why not?” Harry exploded, “He’s done so many terrible things.”

“Harry, lower your voice. If we do kill him, we’re almost guaranteed to go to Azkaban forever, and besides we have no idea if killing him would make things better or worse. We could wipe ourselves out from existence! What if your parents never got together without the war? And if this is a parallel timeline, there could be a worse dark lord.”

Harry deflated, “Fine. Fine. We’ll lay low.”

“What’s a parallel timeline?”

“Harry you explain,” Hermione said disappearing out the door. 

Five minutes later, Harry had explained the basic theories of muggle time travel to Ron, who wasn’t quite sure he understood. They decided to discuss it further later and their talk turned to classes as they knocked on Hermione’s door.

A frazzled Hermione came out, mumbling spells to herself, pulling up her stockings, putting on her jumper, clutching the leaflets she had been given and pinning up her hair at the same time. Ron was surprised that she only had two hands.

“Here,” Ron said, casting a spell to fix her clothes. His mum had resorted to that spell most mornings when the seven of them had to leave the house on time. Their promptness was a rarity but at least they had been presentable.

“Thanks,” she said, skim reading the leaflet, “What if they have tests? Do you know what you’re going to pick? Oh, I knew we should have revised last night.”

“Relax, ‘Mione, you’ve aced every test we’ve ever had. I’m so bloody hungry.”

“Language, Mr Westbury, was it?” Riddle said as he exited his own room, two doors down, “Five points from Slytherin.”

Ron swore lightly under his breath as they followed Riddle out of the common room, towards the Great Hall. They had been awoken early, with barely anyone up. A seventh year sat studying in the corner of the room, one of the younger years was curled up by the fire with their cat and a book. The only other person was a collected Cedrella Black, waiting for them by the door.

Riddle smiled, “Miss Black, I’m sure you’re itching to get back to your room. Don’t worry I can take them to Dippet alone.” The girl beamed up at him, twirling a lock of her hair.

“Tom, you’re a lifesaver,” she giggled, “I really need to fix my hair it’s a mess.”

The newcomers stared, she looked like a porcelain doll. Her hair was perfectly styled, her robes beautifully pressed and her makeup was light but expertly applied. Hermione felt small in comparison.

“You look gorgeous as always, Cedrella,” Riddle said, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She laughed and walked off. The four of them left the common room, Riddle at perfect ease leading them around, his movements like a graceful dancer. Harry seemed even more awkward next to him – he could not seem to relax around the other boy. His shoulders were tense until Ron patted him. Harry gave him a weak smile.

Hermione was practicing spell movements, and reciting facts to herself. She was being observed by an amused Riddle.

“Say, Miss Evans, what subjects are you planning on taking?”

Hermione jumped, scattering her leaflets on the stairs. She immediately knelt to collect them as Riddle summoned them silently. He smiled down at her, as he offered her his hand. She took it uncertainly. His eyes narrowed as she thanked him anxiously.

The party started walking again as he transfigured her leaflets into a bouquet of lavender, pressing them into her hand with a disarming smile. Hermione shrieked, turning them back into leaflets at once and bringing a quill out to annotate them. Ron stifled a laugh. Riddle threw him a murderous look.

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, “She’s always like this before exams. The only guy who managed to get her on a date was hiding in the library from his fangirls.”

The tall boy arched a dark brow as Hermione blushed, “Oh shut up, Harry. Viktor was only interested because he thought I was playing hard to get. And besides he needed a date for the ball. He was worried that his fangirls would do something crazy if they had the chance. Do you know he received no fewer than 32 boxes of chocolates infused with love potions?”

“He must have been quite the handsome man,” Riddle remarked dryly. He was a tad miffed that he could not charm this girl into his arms like all the others.

“Uh… He was very…. gifted,” she said diplomatically. Harry sniggered, and she batted at him with a pamphlet.

Ron stopped sulking long enough to pipe up, “Gifted? He was only the best seeker the world’s ever seen.”

“I see you haven’t gotten over your crush Ronald,” she said, “Viktor I love you.”

Harry joined in with her, “Viktor I do, when we’re apart my heart beats only for you.” They burst out laughing as Ron scowled, his ears reddening.

“He sounds like quite the character,” Riddle stated, as he led them into the hall. Here he turned right to reach the Slytherin table while his troupe turned left. He watched them curiously as they sat down at the Gryffindor table automatically, laughing.

He cleared his throat, “I’m afraid you must sit at the Slytherin table, school rule.”

“Sorry, we didn’t realise there was assigned seating,” Hermione said smiling at him nervously. They followed him in silence to the correct table where they started to eat. It felt as though Riddle was watching their every move, waiting for them to slip up. He was in fact watching but merely out of curiosity, and very discreetly. He had seen enough of Ron eating to last him a lifetime. Harry had grabbed the nearest newspaper, munching on toast. He watched Hermione somehow make coffee and fill her plate with yoghurt and fruit while still reading the leaflets. It would be a shame, he thought, if the milk accidentally spilled on them.

Lo and behold, a moment later, Hermione moaned in distress as she looked at the milk she had poured all over her skirt and the table. 

“Oh, Hermione,” Ron scolded her mockingly, “you should know better by now.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. She managed to vanish the milk from her skirt and the table, but her leaflets were ruined. She vanished them too, sipping her coffee dejectedly. Harry cheered her up by assuring her she had presumably memorised the leaflets by now, even then they only contained information on career paths. Riddle took this chance to strike up a conversation with her.

“Have you decided what classes you’ll be taking, Miss Evans?”

“Well I was thinking of taking everything bar Muggle Studies, Home Economics and Divination,” she said, not noticing Riddle’s look of surprise, “What do you take?”

“I take everything except Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures and obviously, Home Economics.”

“Why obviously?”

“Only witches take that course. It’s required for them to learn how to be good wives.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to calm down by reminding herself they had gone back fifty years. Depressingly, sexism and blood purity had been rife in the ‘90s too. She turned away from Riddle to ask Harry what he was taking.

“Defence, Charms and Transfiguration. Oh, and Care of Magical Creatures. If we’re getting tested, I’m not sure I’ll get into Potions or Divination.”

“Well you’ll have to take all the core subjects, no matter how bad you might be at potions. Neither of you did Arithmancy or Ancient Runes either. Oh, I wish we had time to visit the library. I’ve heard Hogwarts has one of the best,” she added for Riddle’s benefit.

“We do have an extraordinary library. I’d be pleased to show you there after your classes. Speaking of which,” he said, checking the time, “we should be on our way now. Are you all ready?”

Hermione finished her coffee before following their escort to the door. Harry had zoned out. He had realised how odd it all was. A lot of his anger had dissipated over the morning because he no longer had to be polite to Umbridge and he wasn’t being kept in the dark anymore.

“Come on, Harry,” Ron said, shoving one muffin into his mouth and another into his pocket.

“Yeah,” Harry said absentmindedly, getting up. Most of his worries had disappeared: Cho; Umbridge; the DA; the piles of homework he had had; Dumbledore; Sirius; Voldemort; that little voice that reminded him he’d have to stay with the Dursley’s in the summer. For the first time in his life he felt almost no pressure, death no longer loomed over him. He wondered how long it would last as he followed Riddle up to what was once – or he supposed would be – Dumbledore’s office. Was this how most students felt? The most pressing thing on his mind was the OWLs now, and keeping the time travel a secret. He smiled; they had already done two thirds of an OWL year, so they were probably further ahead than they realised.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Riddle say the password to the entrance and let Hermione go first up the stairs. Fred and George would have called it a cracking view. Harry’s smile widened then faltered a little. He would no longer see the twins. Or Ginny. Or the rest of the Order. At least he had his two best friends, and they weren’t fighting too much. What if Hermione met someone new though? Would Ron act as he did with Krum? Harry decided firmly not to think about that until the need arose. Moreover, what about Cho? Did he still like her? Their Valentine’s Day date had been awful. Shuddering, he resolved to put off further thinking until later; Hermione was gesturing for him to pay attention.

“…hope that you read and have decided on which OWL classes you would like to take,” Dippet was saying, “However, if the teacher does not think you have sufficient knowledge in this subject we cannot let you take it as we have no record of your previous grades.”

Ron gulped as they were each given a form to fill in. He hoped he remembered enough to get into at least some classes. They would be tested one at a time throughout the day with Riddle accompanying them to make sure they didn’t cheat and to escort them to each teacher. He knew what he did want to take though.

“Um, Professor Dippet,” he said, “Can I speak with my uncle privately please?”

Everyone in the room looked at him curiously.

“Of course, of course, make it quick though. Professor Merrythought is waiting for you first.”

Ron relaxed a little, following Dumbledore into a little alcove further into the office. They would be tested on Defence first and he was sure he would do okay as the DA had only met up yesterday – yesterday for him, at least. Dumbledore had placed sparkling blue beads into his braided beard to match his turquoise robes embroidered with blue flowers. Briefly, Ron wondered what sort of salary the professor earned to buy such fabulous robes.

“Now what is it you’d like to ask your dear uncle?”

“I’d like to take home economics.”

“Marvellous. I’m not sure there have been any boys taught home economics before,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard, “but I don’t see why not. You would have a free period otherwise. It’s strongly advised for the girls.”

“I know Hermione will refuse to go,” Ron replied wryly.

The bearded man laughed, “Don’t worry I’ll talk to Dippet about it.”

Ron thanked him gratefully. Household charms would remind him of his mum. He’d always been fascinated by the way she cooked and had been secretly hoping to copy her recipe books when he got older, but it had been put on hold by the war. Now though, he could learn to cook for himself. He fervently wished it wouldn’t be as hard as potions.

They spent the rest of the day following Riddle around and being tested on all the subjects just in case. Riddle became increasingly irritated that the three of them somehow managed to make small talk and yet not really say anything at all. He could not discover anything about them except the fact they had been home schooled. The girl practically interrogated him on the school and the boys only seemed to be interested in quidditch.

The only hiccup to the day came late in the day when they reached the Home Economics class. Riddle knocked on the door and introduced them to a rather severe lady who was clearly dressed in the latest fashion. Harry could not imagine her at a stove, much less on her knees scrubbing the floor. The room was divided into a kitchen area at the back and a living room at the front. The teacher’s desk overlooked several clusters of armchairs around tables.

“Ah you must be Miss Evans,” she said, sniffing, “I’m Professor Meliceu. You have one hour to clean and set this table for afternoon tea. I would also like you to prepare afternoon tea for the five of us, including sandwiches, biscuits and a small cake. You may use anything from this room. Begin.”

Hermione did not move.

“If you do not begin, you silly girl, I will take points from your house.”

The younger witch stood her ground and eyed the professor scathingly.

“Can we all try?” said Ron. The teacher and Riddle were a little taken aback. She blinked her carefully made up eyes and nodded.

“I don’t see why not… There are three tables. Place settings are in the sideboard, and ingredients and ovens at the back. Begin.”

She and Riddle seated themselves at one of the armchair groups as the trio headed to the kitchen. Ron immediately grabbed everything he needed to make shortbread biscuits and a lemon drizzle cake. Afternoon tea was a Sunday tradition in the Weasley household, so he had seen his mum make these nearly every week. He made the batter and the dough easily using spells he had seen his mum perform. It took him ten minutes to make both and place them in the oven. He then set about choosing a tablecloth and a matching tea set, before choosing a tea. Earl grey would go well with both flavours. The tablecloth was light blue with flower embroidery, and each person had a matching napkin. The china he chose was white with delicate blue flowers on the rim, and he laid it out just in time to grab his shortbread from the oven.

Harry only knew how to make cake the muggle way, so he made a simple Victoria sponge. He panicked a little as he looked at Ron’s biscuits cooling. He had no idea how to make biscuits, moving on to setting the table instead. He chose the simplest white tablecloth, and the simplest tea set, white china. He thought he set it okay, each person had a small plate for cake, a teacup and saucer. There was a knife to cut the cake and a teapot. Harry brewed the only tea he recognised, English Breakfast.

Hermione didn’t lay out a tablecloth. She picked her favourite tea, peppermint, placing it in the ugliest teapot she could find. She regarded it fondly as she was reminded of the stupid tea leaf reading class she once walked out of. Her parents had never allowed her to have biscuits or cake at tea, only fruit so she grabbed a couple of apples and put them next to a bowl of blackberries. She supposed she needed paper napkins, and mugs. She could only find three and none matched. She shrugged, chose a book from the pile she’d put on the table and sat down to drink some tea. Ron and Harry smiled when they looked over, they were surprised that she wasn’t following a teacher’s request, however.

Dumbledore entered the room and began to chat with Meliceu, flattering her on her dress sense. As the professors were distracted, Riddle took the time to look about the room; the hour was almost up. The ginger boy had an admittedly beautiful table with an inviting array of biscuits and a lovely looking loaf cake. Impressed, he looked to see what the other boy had done. He was just icing his cake and looking pleased. He was incredulous at the girl’s display; it was the worst he had ever seen. He was sure no man would want her as a wife, though part of him admired the way she was reading a book on potions instead of wasting her time on food.

“Time is up. Dumbledore and I will now judge your work.”

The two of them tasted everything on offer, appraising the place settings and interrogating them on the techniques. She was pleased with Ron’s work, and his knowledge of spells. She was surprised that Harry had baked using muggle methods and she was appalled at Hermione.

“What is this?”

Hermione shrugged, “This is how I had afternoon tea with my parents. Before I was adopted by the Evanses,” she said hastily.

“Do you think this a joke girl? You will never find a husband like this.” Meliceu was fuming. 

To her dismay, Hermione looked up from her book, directly into her eyes and said, “Okay. No husband then.”

Riddle’s dark eyes glittered with amusement but before Meliceu could explode, Dumbledore intervened.

“As the legal guardian of these young people, I must say that I do not wish Hermione to attend your classes. However, Ron shows a great interest in them.”

“But – but – but – this is most irregular,” she spluttered, “Miss Evans is in desperate need-”

“She is not in desperate need of anything. I forbid her from attending this class, Juliette. Ronald will be attending them, however. What about you Harry?”

Harry grimaced thinking of all the times he had cooked and cleaned for the Dursleys.

“No thanks, sir.”

“Well that settles it. Riddle, you may escort them back to the Slytherin common room. I will see you three later. Adieu Juliette,” he added as he departed. The trio quickly departed, after Ron and Harry had taken their baked goods and Hermione the fruit, following Riddle back to the dungeons. They left a shocked Meliceu in their wake, who poured herself a small brandy for the first time since she had heard about Grindelwald.


	5. Chapter 5

The Slytherin common room was found behind a seemingly innocuous stretch of wall. Ron wondered how he would ever find it again, despite having been there in his second year. The dungeons were a vast maze of corridors and disused classrooms. He wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by the sound of spiders scuttling about in the shadows or the several rooms that seemingly contained torture devices. Perhaps most disturbing of all was Riddle. His pale face had an unearthly glow in the semidarkness – Fred and George would have made jokes about how unhealthy he looked– and his hair was somehow perfectly coiffed, his robes billowing about him. The creepiest thing by far was how charming he was. All the women at Hogwarts adored him, and the boys clearly looked at him as some sort of role model. This wasn’t how he imagined the dark lord, he mused as he watched Riddle help Hermione down the stairs into the common room.

It was nothing like the Gryffindor common room. Warmth and brightness were replaced by the cool lighting of several blue flames and the refracted sun streaming through windows that looked out onto the bottom of the lake. The rich reds, maroons and golds were all changed for Slytherin colours. The carpet was deep and soft in a shade of forest green that matched the curlicues on the delicate green wallpaper. The French style sofas were all cream and mahogany, which Hermione thought was an odd choice for a school. Then again, she supposed, most of those in Slytherin were heirs and heiresses of some kind. They must be much more well behaved, or they exploited house elf labour. It did brighten the room though. She listened to what Riddle was telling her about the various study rooms off the common room, where the dormitories where and the small library. She wished Gryffindor had been like this, but a tower had almost no space. Luna had told her once that the Ravenclaw common room was essentially a reading room, people would get into heated debates about something or other and neglect their homework.

Riddle offered her a seat by the fire in the midst of a fifth-year group, claiming the seat next to her for himself. Harry and Ron took the sofa opposite next to a fair-haired boy, who introduced himself as Abraxas Malfoy. He gestured to the girl sitting next to him with blonde curls and pink lips with a black cat in her lap.

“This is my darling fiancée, Briar Greengrass,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. She blushed the same colour as her lipstick.

“The rest of our little gang here is the joker Alphard Black,” indicating a boy who looked a lot like a young Sirius, but with shorter hair.  
“Evan Rosier, best at potions,” was clearly the boy sitting next to Black, with average features except his eyes which were a milky blue.   
“And how could I forget Cedrella Black, prefect, Alphie’s much more beautiful cousin,” he continued, as Alphard put on a face of mock horror, “And of course all-round god, Tom Riddle.”

Abraxas winked, as Tom laughed him off. 

“We’ve met. How was your day?” Cedrella smiled at them.

“Tiring,” Hermione said, “Very tiring. In fact, I think I’m going to head to bed.” She stood up, no longer wanting to talk to anyone but her hand was taken by Tom who kissed it lightly and whispered good night to her.

Flushed, Hermione hurried out of the room. Abraxas waggled his eyebrows at his blushing friend’s display. Harry and Ron were not quite so pleased, particularly the latter.

“Soft spot for the new girl, Tom?” Abraxas said. The only response was a smile.

“Hermione’s off limits,” Ron practically growled. 

“Oh, is she affianced?” Cedrella asked.

“A-what?”

“Betrothed,” she said, giggling, “Is she your fiancée?”

Harry smirked at Ron as the blood rushed to his face and he stammered out a no. 

Abraxas raised his eyebrows, “So what makes her forbidden fruit?”

“Forbidden fruit always tastes more delicious,” Alphard mused. Tom smirked at that; clearly her cousin was much more interested in her than he let on. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

“Harry and I, well, we’re very protective of her. She’s family,” said Ron, “Tell him Harry.”

Harry did not want to be dragged into the hole Ron was digging for himself. He was pretty confident that Hermione would not appreciate being talked about like this, like she was some kind of pet and he knew that she would find out about this. 

“Well,” he began, “she is family. But Hermione will date who she wants to date. Why not just ask her out, Ron?”

Ron blushed even further and mumbled something about going to bed. He stormed off. Harry went after him, not wanting to be alone with the curious eyes, but mostly wanting to make up with Ron.

“They’re a peculiar trio, don’t you think?” Abraxas remarked. The others nodded, and thus began a session of petty gossip detailing what they each thought. The only two who did not join in was Evan who had no particular opinions besides “the girl was alright looking”, and Tom who merely listened. When they had talked out the dynamics of the trio and Hermione’s hair and how dissimilar she and her brother looked and the connection to Dumbledore and the rumours going around about pirates, they asked Tom’s opinion. He had spent the day with them, what did he think? She must have made quite the impression on him. But he merely smiled and said that she seemed quite intelligent and that he observed that the three of them were very close. Oh, and that she was his adopted sister, he dropped before excusing himself to bed too.


	6. Chapter 6

Hogwarts sat on top of a small hill overlooking its grand estate. Underneath it lay the Black Lake, populated by a plethora of interesting creatures, many of which were visible from the Slytherin common room. The giant squid was one such being; it was currently frolicking near the shore with a laughing Dumbledore clutched in one of its tentacles. Hermione, who had woken up obscenely early, was privy to this bizarre sight. She had wanted to escape the claustrophobia she felt in the dungeons, feeling much less nauseous in the crisp autumn air. She stood, dumbfounded, by one of the few trees on the shore watching as the squid released Dumbledore and he performed a spectacular dive. This caused Hermione to become very wet. ~Narrator’s aside: this is not turning into a Dumbledore/Hermione/Giant squid slash fic. Honestly! ~ This was due to a large amount of splashing by the squid, which Hermione privately suspected was applause. Dumbledore now reappeared, rising out of the lake on a pair of water skis, pulled along by a tiny primitive steamboat. He spotted her wringing out her hair, waved and changed course to come to shore. However, he was still quite far away when the steady stream of steam began to putter out causing a magnificent crash. Her professor appeared to be quite the water sports aficionado as he immediately began a beautiful breaststroke as thought the crash were intentional. She decided she’d have to tell Harry who was quite good at theorising backstories.

“Good morrow, my dear!” a dripping wet Dumbledore proclaimed. He was wearing a Victorian bathing suit and had somehow braided his hair and beard into an elegant top knot on the top of his head. He dried the both of them with a wave of his wand, before transfiguring his bathing suit back into his robes. Today they were orange, with a glittering griffin pack that ran around the hem. He placed his wand into a gold trimmed breast pocket.

“Er, good morning Professor Dumbledore.”

“Ah no need to stand on principle! It is a Sunday, king of the week. Call me Uncle Albus,” he said, “After all we are related.”

He winked. Hermione nodded, deciding to compliment him on his proficiency in the water. He launched into an explanation of how he had always been fascinated and had taught himself to swim. His first few attempts had been less stellar.

“Do you know, my dear, I used to throw myself into the Black Lake? I nearly drowned,” he chuckled. 

“Right,” Hermione replied, a little alarmed. Had Dumbledore been suicidal? She changed the subject, asking about his hair braiding. He seemed delighted as he led them into the empty Great Hall, to the Slytherin table.

“Would you like coffee? Excellent. Sugar? Milk? Well the basic spell I use to braid my hair is intreccium capellis but there are several other variations. I learnt that from a group of witches in Sicily, they all have extremely long hair and needed to tame it somewhat. My favourite spell however I learnt from a small tribe in East Africa, kamale nohi which I’m sure would look wonderful on your hair. Put emphasis on the ‘eh’ and the ‘no’ sounds. You move your wand in an S-shape and then a circle like this. You try.”

“Kamale nohi,” she said, executing the spell perfectly. Her wild curls arranged themselves into neat braids that curled into a bun. Professor Dumbledore transfigured the sugar bowl into a mirror for her.

“What do you think? Curious little spell isn’t it.”

“It was so easy! I wonder what other types of spells there are,” she said, happily. She didn’t care much about her looks, but it was sometimes frustrating to have her hair frizzing up in the middle of potions.

Dumbledore smiled, “Well I have compiled a book of my own personal collection of hair braiding spells from around the world. Sadly, no one will publish it, but you can borrow it. It’s very useful for knitting I’ve found.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up, “I’ve just started knitting. Obviously, I no longer have any of my projects with me.”

“Well the spell to transfigure something into a knitting needle is easy. It follows on from turning matches into needles. Take this spoon for example, I draw a straight line with my wand like so and say knutten batten.”

He observed Hermione’s attempt happily.

“You do have a talent for this my dear. Tell me, what is your favourite subject?” he said as he passed her a roll of wool from a pocket deep in his robes and brought out his own set of knitting supplies.

They fell into a chat about schooling and the future as they knitted and had breakfast. Occasionally Dumbledore would correct her and show her the way to do a particularly trying stitch, which transformed into a discussion of house elves, home economics, and knitting patterns. They had just begun talking about the best spells to untangle a knot when Riddle entered the room for breakfast. 

Riddle slept little, as he was used to being awoken by screaming babies at the orphanage who he would have to help take care of. He resented them as they were almost always adopted within a few months, whereas anyone over five or six was left behind. He supposed that he had noticed fewer adoptions now that the war had begun.

He was indulging in one of his rare fantasies about having been adopted when he noticed the new girl and Dumbledore sitting at the Slytherin table. He supposed it would look odd if he did not join them, and though he detested Dumbledore he wanted to make his best impression on the new girl. He hoped Dumbledore had not been spreading his suspicions.

“Tom,” the man called, “Would you like to sit near us and have some coffee?”

“No thank you, Professor. I’ll have a cup of tea please,” he said sitting next to Hermione and studying her knitting. It was supposed to be a sock but to Tom’s eye he could tell it had an open end and a closed end. A hat, perhaps?

Hermione blushed under his scrutiny.

“It’s a sock. Professor – I mean – Uncle Albus, is teaching me to improve my knitting.”

Tom nodded, a little judgementally before telling her he hoped she would improve enough to knit him a jumper for the winter. 

“What a good idea Tom!”

Tom looked startled at being praised by Dumbledore, although one could only tell by the slight widening of his eyes. To Hermione he looked perfectly poised, as he sipped his tea. He listened intently as he made a plate of traditional breakfast to his hated professor’s explanation of a knitting club.

“Would you be interested, my dear?” Dumbledore asked Hermione who nodded vigorously.

“Well then, I had better see the headmaster,” he said as he finished his coffee, “Good morning Tom, Hermione. You better keep those dear until we can procure you a pair.”

He left in a twirl of his magnificent golden robes, leaving the two teenagers blinking a little as well as the half-asleep group of Ravenclaws who had just walked in. The awkward couple breakfasted in silence a while until Tom asked if knitting was a favourite hobby of hers.

“Actually, my favourite thing to do is read. I haven’t had a chance to visit the library yet.”

“Oh yes, I noticed you reading an old potions textbook during your home economics exam.”

She sniffed, “Well home economics is a waste of my time.”

“Do you not wish to be a dutiful wife?”

He smirked at her as she rolled her eyes.

“I’d like to see you take that class,” she laughed, as she imagined Voldemort wearing an apron and telling the Death Eaters that he had made muffins.

“I have no need to.”

“Oh of course, because you’re a man.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, smiling at her shyly, “But I actually know how to cook and clean, my Lady.”

She scowled as he laughed.

“Prove it.”

“I have homework to do today, but I will gladly make time to make a romantic meal for two.”

“Oh, stuff it Riddle.”

Hermione’s mood had been ruined by He Who Must Be Named Little Bitch. She sipped her coffee broodingly, wondering when Harry would turn up. He normally made it to breakfast before Ron. Speak of the devil, she thought as she watched him walk through the door with Alphard Black.

“Here,” Riddle said, conjuring a beautiful flower wreath for her. It was white and pink camellias set in a sprig of white ivy tendrils with tiny spider flowers set in between. He levitated it onto her head where it sat perfectly around the bun she had created. 

“Thanks,” she said. She couldn’t take it off, that would be rude. Harry smirked at her.

“You look great, Hermione,” he said, “Camellias very nice, Riddle. If I remember right, pink means ‘you’re adorable’ and white means ‘I long for you’? I’m not sure about the other two.”

On cue Riddle blushed looking at Hermione from under his eyelashes. Alphard laughed and sat down next to Tom, opposite Harry who had his arm around Hermione. He squeezed her.

“I know,” Alphard said, “The ivy means he’s anxious to please and you better be careful Evans, the spider flower means he wants to elope. Keep a close eye on your sister.”

Harry laughed as Hermione scowled further into her coffee and Riddle’s blush deepened.

“Well she is a charming young lady, any man would be lucky to have a wife so proficient in housework,” Tom said smoothly. 

Hermione stood up, outraged, pointing her knitting needle at him and then her wand. The three boys fought to suppress their laughter as she fumbled with a reel of wool. She growled in frustration, waving her wand to put everything away before hexing Riddle and storming off.

“You shouldn’t provoke her when she’s like that Riddle,” Harry chuckled. The Dark Lord looked very sweet with pastel pink hair.

“I’m really in the mood for fairy floss now,” Alphard tittered, “Aren’t you going to go after her? She shouldn’t wander the castle alone.”

“I don’t think she’ll be bothered once people find out quite how sweet she is. Besides she’ll find her way to the library and I’ll meet her there later,” Harry said, watching as Riddle’s eyes narrowed and he conjured a mirror. His new hair really did look like candy floss. His attempt to undo the spell failed, and a sugar pulled hairbow appeared. His second attempt also failed, only adding decorative sprinkles to his head.

Tom was furious. How dare she? He was charming her with his flower bouquet, carefully chosen to make her swoon, and it was a piece of very impressive magic to charm flowers out of thin air. And she had retaliated by turning his hair into a confection. How ‘sweet’ of her. He had to admit that it was also a remarkable spell, and he had never seen a similar jinx or charm that resisted all attempts to remove it. He wondered if it was of her own creation. She had also done it non-verbally. Calmer, Tom ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly - or attempted to before it became sticky. The appearance of it was unaffected. He scowled.

Harry and Alphard continued to make jokes at Tom’s expense until they were joined by a horrified Abraxas, a giggling Cedrella, a laughing Ron, and an outraged Walburga Black who began screeching that she would put whoever did it in detention. Ron and Harry shared a look of revulsion. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Walburga, I am perfectly capable of dealing with the matter at hand,” Tom said, using his best prefect voice. The girl began to fawn at him as though he had flicked a switch.

“Well you are a brilliant prefect Tom,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes and leaning over the table.

“Shut up, sis, you’re engaged. Mummy dearest wouldn’t be too pleased to hear you’d making eyes at someone else and neither would Orion,” Alphard said. She scowled at him.

“Speak of the devil, here comes your dutiful fiancé,” he added, waggling his eyebrows at his sister. Orion walked over to them to perform a perfunctory greeting to his fiancée, before leaving. He hated doing it, but he was going to marry her, so he was forced to be civil.

“That’s my cousin Orion Black, fourth year,” he said to the puzzled newcomers, “and this is my sister Walburga Black.”

They were not Tom though, so she barely spared them a glance. The pale skinned prefect wished his companions a good morning and excused himself. He was not going to spend all day with his hair like this, but he was sure he did not need help to remove the jinx. He headed off for the library. Walburga left after him to join her sixth-year friends.

The rest of them continued their breakfast, with Alphard pointing out the more important people in the Great Hall, Abraxas and Cedrella chipping in whenever they had some particularly important gossip. An enormous boy sat down at the Slytherin table, holding a puppy.

“That’s Rubeus Hagrid, fourth year. Loves any sort of animals. He looks scary but he’s alright really. Orion says he isn’t the brightest in their class and he snores so loud they have to silence him at night.”

Abraxas leaned in to whisper, “I heard that he’s half giant so he must be a brute.”

Harry and Ron were about to defend him but Cedrella rolled her eyes.

“Oh, honestly Abraxas, everyone knows he’s one of the nicest people in Slytherin. He’s up there with Briar! And he cried when that thestral was found dead at the edge of the forest.”

Alphard laughed as Abraxas sniffed imperiously. 

“Look Cedrella, your prince has arrived,” he said pointing at a red-haired boy walking straight towards them. She blushed. 

“Sweets for my sweet,” the boy exclaimed, placing a basket Honeyduke’s finest chocolates down in front of her. He took her hand and kissed it while he looked into her eyes. She giggled.

“Septimus you shouldn’t have, you’ll make me fat!” she said.

“And I’d still love you if you were,” he winked.

Ron looked sickened, and Harry laughed at the image of Ron doing something similar for Hermione. 

“I’m surprised you can afford that Weasley,” Abraxas said nastily, “If she were my fiancée, I’d import the best Parisian chocolates.”

“I have not seen you do that for Briar,” Cedrella replied frostily, “Where is she anyway?”

“Did you scare her off Malfoy?”

Abraxas got up and left to the amusement of the three other boys. Septimus looked at the two new boys, one ginger and one brunet.

“Oh, you must be Dumbledore’s relatives,” he said cheerily, “I’m Septimus Weasley, fifth year Gryffindor, madly in love with Cedrella.”

“Harry Evans nice to meet you.”

“Ron Westbury pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, Cedrella’s told me all about you.” They shook hands.

Alphard said, “I’m sure she did at one of your ‘study sessions’.”

“Alphard! My honour is perfectly intact I’ll have you know.”

“Not for long,” he laughed, “I’ll show you two around the school if you want?”

The two boys nodded and went with him leaving the love birds alone. It was like being with a younger, funner Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like!!!! thanks for all the comments and kudos <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments!
> 
> i have had so much fun writing this fic, not sure where its going yet but im enjoying the ride :D

Riddle stormed into the library, although to anyone else it looked as though he were enjoying a morning stroll. He was perfectly pleasant to the librarian who smiled at him, a frequent library visitor as the Slytherin one was tiny in comparison. He was sure he had read nearly all the fascinating books at Hogwarts despite his disadvantageous start in life. The orphanage was not an ideal learning environment, in fact many of the other children could barely read and write.

Tom was glad that there was almost no one about, it was still early Sunday morning. The librarian had giggled as he walked past; he had wanted to send her screaming to the floor. From muscle memory alone, he found himself in the right section, picking out several likely titles with a wave of his wand. He hovered them next to him as he went to his favourite library spot.

He scowled. She was sitting there. In his favourite spot, a desk at the back of the library, not secluded enough to be surrounded by amorous couples but still far from most people. A little desk nook by the window. The cold winter sun highlighted her hair perfectly as she bent over whatever she was working on.

So, she wanted sugar vengeance? He’d give it to her. He slyly directed his wand at her hair, turning it into liquorice wands. Hermione, who often chewed her hair while she thought, gasped in surprise as she bit right through her hair. She whipped around.

“Riddle.”

“Miss Evans,” he smirked.

“Very original, using a similar type of spell on my hair. Couldn’t think of anything better? Thanks though, liquorice is my favourite,” she quipped.

“You were in my seat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t see your name on it? Maybe you just can’t spell it.” And with a flourish of her wand, Hermione created a little plaque on the edge of the desk and carved her name in beautiful calligraphy. It was next to the wreath of flowers he had made for her.

“I see,” he said, watching her smug face, before enlarging her wreath into a flower crown and placing it on her head. He leaned close to her ear to whisper that he was very impressed. He conjured another chair as the desk had space enough for two and sat down to read his pile of books making sure she could not tell what he was researching. She blushed and turned back to her work.

Although Tom had managed to turn her hair into liquorice, he had simply changed a spell from turning her hair into snakes. He was still stuck on how to change his hair back, and he wanted to know how she had done it. It must have been difficult for a fifth-year witch to weave those different spells together. It bothered him that she managed to get the upper hand. For some reason she had not changed her hair back again either. Was she trying to remind him of his own failure? Did she not care? He doubted that she could not undo it because of the complexity of her own spell, and the fact that she was researching magical creatures. Although perhaps she was simply fooling him by changing the book covers and the writing like he had? He was getting too distracted.

Hermione was in fact researching vanishing cabinets. She wanted to know how it was even possible that they were sent back in time. She had books on the magic at Hogwarts and the latest research on time turners. The reason she had not changed her hair back was simply because she did not care; it had started to hurt anyway, she wasn’t used to tight hairstyles. Without really paying too much attention she restored her hair to its curly state, then used a spell Ginny had taught her to make it slightly sleeker and less bushy.

The words in front of her eyes swam as she teared up. She missed Ginny already. She missed sitting opposite Luna and Neville in the library. Her parents would never take her to bookstores anymore over Christmas unless she found some sort of miracle. Even in her own time magic to go forward in time was still theoretical, the mechanics of it were clearly not easy as going back a few hours. She slammed the book closed in frustration before grabbing the next one, ‘A Treatise on the Theories of Time Travel’ disguised as ‘A Guide to Caring for Birds Part 3: Courtship and Mating’.

Riddle was startled by the loud sound in much the same way as a rock is startled by someone screaming at it which is to say, not at all. He simply looked at the new girl scathingly before deciding not to let his mind stray any further from the task at hand because of her. His third, surreptitious attempt at fixing his hair had not been ideal. There were now streaks of blue fairy floss mixed with the pink. Lollipops spawned on the bow on the fourth attempt. He shifted in his chair.

“Would you like some help, sweetie?” Hermione batted her eyelashes at him mockingly. The scowl on his face did nothing to deter the smug smile spreading on hers.

“Thank you, sugar, but I think I’ll be perfectly fine,” he smiled back.

“Well I always find luxionaria does the trick if you do this with your wand. After all I did invent it.”

Tom didn’t appreciate how self-satisfied she looked. He refused to accept her help, although of course when he was alone in his chambers, he did try it after futilely spending the whole day at the library. His skin began to glitter. He swore out loud for the first time in three years. 

It was past midnight. He checked that no one was out in the corridor before sneaking out to knock on her door.

She didn’t answer. He swore under his breath before knocking again. On the fifth time, the door opened to reveal a very sleepy Hermione with bed hair. She giggled at his appearance.

“I see you tried what I suggested. Have you come to apologise?”

He swallowed hard in distaste, “I came for your help.”

“Why should I help you?”

“I’ll owe you a favour.”

“Alright, come in then.”

He sat down on the bed, trying to look proud.

“Just hurry up.”

“What’s the magic word Riddle?” she said, with her hands on her hips.

He leaned in close to her, his lips brushing against her cheek, “Darling, please show me how good you are at magic.”

Hermione was titillated. Knowledge was one of her turn-ons. She was glad that the light was so dim that he could not see her blush. Unfortunately for her, Riddle felt her face heat up.

“Is this not inappropriate premarital conduct, Mr Riddle? You should take points.”

Was she flirting with him? He hadn’t heard her call him anything other than Riddle. He watched her as she waved her wand about his head in a zig zag. When she was done, he surmised he was fixed. His hair was no longer sticky when he ran his hands through it.

“I’m sure I could arrange another equally suitable punishment for you, Miss Evans.”

Almost imperceptibly she shifted closer to him. “That would be abuse of your position, how would it sound to the Headmaster that you did such a thing in the newest girl’s bedroom?”

He simply grinned before letting himself out. So, she was clearly into roleplay. And books. Interesting.

****

It was one of those cold mornings where Harry woke up too early due to years of being abused by the Dursleys. He knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, so he dressed quietly and slipped out of the room. The Slytherin common room was empty, the dim light coming through the windows gave it a peculiar quality, like a train station at 5am or an abandoned playground. Harry sort of enjoyed it, it made him feel meditative as he curled up one of the large padded windowsills to stare into the murky depths of the lake. 

Fronds of seaweed swayed rhythmically, hypnotizingly and as he watched the marine life, he imagined he was voicing a documentary. A small fish nibbled at the algae on the rocks by the seaweed was being stalked by a grindylow. The sickly green creature grabbed it with its long fingers before stuffing its helpless prey into its mouth. It retreated into the seaweed to await its next victim. Harry’s thoughts turned to the tournament he had competed in last year. Thankfully he had not dreamt of Cedric in the last few nights. Maybe it was because the threat of Voldemort was less immediate? Or was it? Was Riddle just as dangerous now? He looked exactly as he remembered from the Chamber of Secrets. Had it been found and opened yet or was that on Riddle’s to-do list?

His brooding was interrupted by a frantic Hermione.

“Harry! Harry, I need to tell you something, I thought it was a dream, I mean how could I be so stupid? But I was so tired and then I’d been having this dream and then we flirted, and I did the spell for him-”

“Hermione, what are you on about? Who? What dream?” Harry asked confused. She pushed her hair out of her face.

“Oh- I’m sorry. I’m really worried. Last night I heard a knock on my door, and I opened it and it was Riddle, I’d told him how to undo the spell, but I lied so his skin was sparkly when he tried it. It was funny,” she said as she watched Harry snicker, “But it’s not funny now! I undid the spells, but I was so tired, and we flirted!”

Harry laughed. Hermione looked at him appalled before hitting him with a cushion.

“Harry! It’s not funny! He made me that bouquet of flowers and then he sat next to me in the library and we got into a stupid argument – Harry will you stop laughing and listen to me! Thank you – and we had this stupid argument, but have you noticed how almost all the girls simper at him?”

She had started pacing and gesturing. 

“Hermione calm down. Come here,” he said as he gave her a hug, “You do have famous taste, you know. Skeeter would have a field day.”

“I hate you,” she said smiling. 

“First me, then Viktor, and now Riddle,” he teased.

“Now Riddle what?” someone said from behind them. They turned around in horror. Hermione turned cherry red.

“Speak of the devil,” Harry muttered.

“We were just um, making a list, you know, ranking people in sweater wearing capability.”

Tom looked amused, “Did you often wear sweaters in the Caribbean?”

“Oh yeah, loads of times,” Harry said confidently.

“I was under the impression that it was very hot there.”

“Yeah we used to have competitions on who could wear sweaters the longest or the most sweaters. You get it.”

Hermione nodded so violently in agreement it looked like her neck had broken. A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other before he nodded at her.

“Interesting,” Tom conceded, “Don’t forget today is your first day of class. I’ll have your schedules at breakfast. I’m more than happy to show you to your classes.”

He said the last sentence while looking her in the eye. She grinned and gave him a thumbs up. He bid them a good morning and left. 

Harry guffawed, “That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen. A thumbs up? Really? Seriously Hermione, I’ve seen you lie to McGonnagall. What happened?”

She just held her face in her hands. He patted her on the back.

“C’mon I’ll grab Ron and my things and then we’ll head to breakfast. And before you say anything, you’re not allowed to say anything about being worried about classes because you’ll be brilliant.”


End file.
